Going Back
by stelladelnordxd
Summary: Harry Potter is dead. Right? Wrong. Harry Potter get's a second chance. With the ability to go back to before his first year at Hogwarts and retain all of his memories, will he be able to save the people that need saving and battle against Voldemort and win once more? What about get the girl? Manipulative!Dumbledore/Molly/Ron/Ginny. Harry/Hermione. Sirius/Harry bonding. NONCANON
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note**: Oh wow, freaking _finally_! I've been editing this for a really long time (okay, all week, aha). It has basically grown into my baby, other than my Character Reads fanfiction. I can see myself updating this one often, alongside my HPatPPRtB fanfiction. I love this okay? Leave me all the reviews, don't be afraid to ask questions through Private Message. HPatPPRtB will be posted tonight or tomorrow. I hope y'all enjoy this one. :)

* * *

Harry Potter was dead. He knew this was true, because he could clearly remember going to see Voldemort in the forest. He remembers turning the resurrection stone, remembers seeing his family, being told he'll never be alone. He can remember the blast of green light, and so he knows he's dead. Except, his eyes are open, and it seems he is breathing, which is what he doesn't understand, since he's supposed to be dead. How could he be dead, but breathing? How could his eyes be open? How could everything around him be so damn bright, and lonely, when he figured his family would be waiting for him?

"Well, this sucks." He mutters, shrugging and then running his fingers through his hair.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Someone says from behind him, causing him to turn around immediately and raise his wand.

"Who are you?" He questions, his eyebrow in an arch and his heartbeat speeding up. The person in front of him is tall, almost seven feet tall. He has black hair, wild in a way that it reminds Harry of Hagrid, which just causes the young man to feel a pain in his heart that he definitely won't look into.

"I suppose you wouldn't know who I am, would you?" The man says which causes Harry to arch his eyebrow even more than before and tilt his head in confusion.

"No, but am I supposed to?" He questions, his mouth dry.

"Yes. And no."

"And no?"

"That's right, no. I shouldn't need to be talking to you right now, because you shouldn't even be dead." The guy says, shaking his head. Harry looks on, more confused than previously, before he decides to sit on the ground.

"And why shouldn't I be dead?" He questions, not understanding anything this guy is saying.

"Because Potter, you shouldn't have even faced the Dark Lord!" The person –if he's even that – snaps. Harry scrunches his face up, more confused than ever before.

"What do you mean, I shouldn't have even faced Voldemort?" He questions. He can feel his heartbeat go faster, has no idea what this guy means, isn't sure if he even wants to know, either.

"I mean, if it wasn't for that old coot Dumbledore, you wouldn't have been killed by Voldemort, because you wouldn't have been battling him alone."

"What does Dumbledore have to do with this?" Harry asks, his voice laced with his confusion and he hears the guy sigh.

"Listen closely Harry, and listen well," The guy starts with another sigh, "Albus Dumbledore is an incredibly manipulative bastard," He finishes, causing Harry to take in a deep breath of surprise.

"You're probably wondering how, which isn't really surprising." The guy states, and Harry flinches, not wanting to believe that someone so close to him is a manipulative b-.

"Merlin, of course I'm wondering how!" Harry nearly shouts, his fists clenched in anger.

"No need to scream, I'm going to tell you. Let's start at the very beginning shall we." The guy says and Harry can feel himself calming down, despite not wanting to be calm over such accusations.

"Ok, then let's start at the beginning," Harry says, his eyes wide when he suddenly feels himself being pulled, like he's apparating.

When he opens his eyes next, he can see himself in Dumbledore's office. He doesn't know what he's doing back here and he looks wildly around, not surprised at all to see the guy next to him.

"What's your name?" He mumbles, still a little confused.

"Scomparsa," The man says, and Harry nods briefly, before looking around the office. It's clear that this is many years in the past, as there aren't nearly as many things in the office as there were before his death. Not only that, but the Albus Dumbledore that is sitting at the desk in front of him looks much younger, his hair only beginning to turn white.

Harry's about to open his mouth to speak, but he's interrupted.

"He won't hear you, Potter. No one in these past visions will." Harry slumps slightly before he nods his head and then runs his fingers through his hair. Suddenly, the door is thrown open and Harry is surprised to see Pettigrew rushing through the door.

"I did it, Albus, I've done it!" He exclaims, his fists pumped and his eyes full of exhilaration. Harry has a bad feeling about this, but doesn't do anything other than look at Scomparsa.

"Sirius has convinced me to be the Potter's secret keeper!" Peter shouts, smiling in his happiness. Harry watches as Albus smiles back, a small twinkle in his eyes, and the bad feeling Harry had in his stomach returns.

"And no one knows you're the spy?" Albus questions, while the twinkle in his eyes completely gone now as his face sets into a serious frown. Harry also turns his face into a complete frown. His heart has speeded up and his palms have started to sweat.

"He… he knew. He knew about Sirius being innocent and he knew—" Harry starts, only to stop suddenly when he feels the sudden pull of being apparated. Within seconds, he suddenly finds himself in an openly lit room, bright and noisy. The walls around him are a lightly colored blue with scattered splotches of dark blue painted on top. He can immediately see that he's in a kitchen, and while it's a little messy, that's not what has his attention. What does catch his attention is the little boy in the blue jumper in the white crib a little ways away.

There's a baby in the crib with jet black hair that's a complete mess and bright green eyes that Harry knows as very familiar. The baby gurgles a few times and right before Harry breaks out into a wide grin a tall man comes out and picks the baby up. Harry can feel his breath being taken away from him, recognizing the messy black hair and glasses over eyes.

"Oh, you are such a perfect little baby boy aren't you Prongslet?" He hears the man, his _father_, whisper, and Harry smiles as he watches a younger version of himself giggle.

"Pa foo!" The younger version of him gurgles, causing his dad to let out a chuckle that's laced with darkness.

"Sorry, prongslet. Padfoot won't be coming by for a while."

"Pa foo?" Baby Harry gurgles, no longer smiling and Harry hears his father sigh.

"Yeah, I miss him too, buddy. But he can't come over, because he's not our secret keeper. Wormtail is." His dad says before Baby Harry starts crying his eyes out. He watches as his dad flinches and then runs his fingers through his hair, so very reminiscent of what Harry does that it makes his breath leave him.

"Oh, c'mon Prongslet, don't cry." James pleads, rocking his son back and forth in a jumping motion to try and have him quiet down slightly.

"James? What did you do now?" Harry hears and when he turns around, his breath leaves him one more time at the sight of his mother. Her auburn colored hair is held up in a fashionable bun by chopsticks, and she's wearing track pants and, oddly enough, a hooded sweater. She smiles when she looks at her husband and baby boy before she takes the young baby out of her husband's hands.

"I said W-" James starts, only to stop when he sees his son start to pout.

"P—" James tries one more time before Lily nods her head in understanding. James and Lily, and even Sirius and Remus never understood why Harry never liked Peter but they didn't question it either, knowing that whatever reason Harry had, he had it. Finally, Harry stops looking like he's going to cry and gurgles one more time, grabbing a handful of his mother's hair, causing her to smile.

"You are such a good –" She begins only to stop suddenly when she hears the door blast open. She looks up at her husband fearfully, her green eyes wide with fear, her heart beating a thousand miles a minute.

"But, Peter." Harry hears James whisper as his mother seems frozen. He watches as his dad shakes himself out of it, his eyes equally wide but filled with a steely look in them.

"Lily, it's him. Take Harry upstairs. Go!" James shouts and before Harry can see anymore he feels the now familiar tug of being apparated and sighs, not wanting to add seeing his parent's death fully alongside hearing it.

When he finally opens his eyes once more after recognizing the fact that he's apparating, he sees himself at the home of the Weasley's. His eyes go wide in slight confusion, having no idea why he's here so suddenly, especially if Scomparsa is showing him what Albus has done to apparently, completely fuck up his life.

He gets a sense of foreboding, not wanting to see this, not wanting to see anything else. However, he couldn't look away when he recognizes Molly Weasley come out of an adjoining room with a smile on her face and a small baby in her arms. Harry recognizes this immediately as Ron and his bad feeling grows even larger than before.

Ron is his best friend. Ron has always been there for him. Well, okay, not _always_, but well enough. Harry didn't _want _Ron to be in this room, with this man, and that thought alone scared the hell out of him.

"Molly, how are you?" Albus question, while Harry jumped nearly a mile high, forgetting that a conversation would be taking place.

"I'm alright Albus. What business do you have to be here?" Molly smiled, and Harry could tell instantly, and rather disgustingly, if you asked him, that Molly was trying to flirt with the Headmaster. It almost seemed as the Headmaster could recognize this trait himself, as he smiled slightly before he looked around the room. Harry, wondering what Albus could find so interesting, also looked around the room, before his eyes landed on the infamous clock that Mrs. Weasley had. Surprisingly enough, the clock had the same amount of names on it as what he was used to, though upon closer inspection, Ginny's name was mostly faded, like she hadn't been born yet, which made Harry snap his attention back to the mother.

"I take it you're having a daughter, then?" Albus smiled. Molly nodded her head enthusiastically, a grin appearing on her face.

"I've always wanted a daughter, and after six boys, well, I'm finally getting one!" She says, clapping her hands in excitement, having put Ron down in a chair.

"Molly, what would you do if I told you I could have your daughter married to a wonderful man when she's older, your youngest son best friends with said man and your family very, very rich?" Albus interrupted her chatter, obviously wanting to get to the point. Harry watched as Molly's eyes grew wide and she herself suddenly grew silent, her mouth doing a fabulous rendition of a fish out of water.

"But, but, how?" She muttered, her hand clutching her heart as she suddenly sat down. Harry sits down also, with Scomparsa standing next to him and he watches Albus closely, looking for any sign of what's going to come next.

"Love potions – and an arranged marriage to one Harry James Potter." Albus states while Harry's eyes widen and his mouth opens. His fists become clenched and begin to turn white over how tightly he's clenching them.

"Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived?" Molly states as she tries her hardest not to stutter over the name and the atrocious nickname. Harry can't help but flinch and, at the same time, close his eyes in sadness.

"Yes, the one and only." Albus states and Harry knows without even looking up that the Headmaster is nodding his head.

"Of course, more will be discussed when the time has come for Harry to go to Hogwarts but know that your daughter will be Mrs. Potter and you will be paid generously for it." Albus said while standing up.

"Where will the money come from, Albus?"

"The Potter Vault of course." Albus grins before leaving. Harry doesn't immediately feel the tug of being apparated away and looks towards Scomparsa, his face red with anger and his eyes wet with tears.

"Please tell me she didn't take that offer?" He whispers trying his hardest not to look down at the ground. When Scomparsa remains silent, Harry looks up, his eyes betraying the anger he feels within himself.

"Is what I felt for Ginny even real?" He questions.

"No. Molly and Ginny used love potions on you every time you ate at the Weasley house. When you were at Grimmauld they had to slow down the amount of potions because your godfather was onto them but before he could truly do anything, he was killed." Scomparsa mutters and Harry just wants to scream, not impressed with anything in the moment. Very suddenly, Harry can feel the familiar tug of being apparated, and sighs, falling to the floor. When he looks around himself, he recognizes that he's in Gringotts, but he has no idea where he is in the large wizarding bank. After a few minutes, he immediately recognizes Dumbledore and can feel a deep burn within him, his anger nearly coming out completely.

"What can I do for you?" Someone says and Harry looks up to see a Goblin in front of Dumbledore, and sighs, wondering what the old fool has done now.

"Yes, I'm here to collect money out of this vault," He states and Harry watches as the Goblin nods his head before taking the key that Dumbledore put on the countertop. Harry recognizes the key immediately as his own and his anger flares even more than before, wondering how the old wizard could have gotten his keys.

"Scomparsa, how?"

"He created one for himself and never told anyone. Then, when you'd be getting ready for Hogwarts, he recreated that key, put some money in a smaller vault and somehow managed to trick the goblins into redirecting the key over to which vault it opened."

"Essentially, I would never have known about my actual vault?"

"Yes." Scomparsa says and Harry feels more angry than he did before he asked the question but he isn't sure what to do. Within minutes, Harry is at his vault and when the doors open, he feels more surprised than anything. His vault is huge, much larger than Bellatrix's, and probably much bigger than the Great Hall itself. Inside it are many trinkets and gold, but what really catches Harry's eyes is the invisibility cloak and the Marauders Map.

"But—"

"Watch," Scomparsa says and Harry nods his head, deciding he's going to have to watch a lot if he wants to truly understand what's going on. He watches as Dumbledore picks up his father's cloak and tucks it away in his robe. He watches as Dumbledore picks up the map and chuckles before putting that in his own cloak.

"We'll put that in Filch's cupboards for the Weasley twins to find when they come to the school." He mutters and Harry clenches his fists some more, a question on his mind.

"No, the Twins were never involved in manipulating you through any way. If anything, the two of them plus Bill and Charlie are the only Weasley's you _can _trust." Scomparsa mutters and Harry nods quickly, thankful for that. Before he can see what else Albus takes though, the two of them are moving once more, the tug of being apparated so many times making Harry queasy. When they landed, Harry looked up to see Dumbledore sitting at a table with Molly in front of him, this time with a much older version of Ron and Ginny next to her, both sitting to her side and eating happily away at something.

"You will be going to Hogwarts in a month," Albus states towards Ron, who nods his head happily while Ginny pouts at not being able to go. Albus smiles at the duo, thankful that Molly had decided to accept the offer he gave her so many years ago.

"Now, Molly, this part is extremely important, okay?" Albus questions as the twinkle in his eyes completely gone, forcing Molly to nod her head sincerely. Harry sighed before he pulled up a chair and listened to Dumbledore explain to Molly what she would need to do come September 1st.

"You need to talk really loudly, Molly. You need to question where the platform is, like you don't know. I made sure not to remind Hagrid to mention it to Harry, so the fact that he's at the platform, with a bundle of stuff, without any idea where to go will lead you right to him when he hears you say the platform number. And in turn, he'll become best friends with little Ronald here, and after his fifth year, you can amp up the doses on the love potion and he'll fall for Miss Ginevra," Dumbledore finishes, smiling as Molly grins and Harry begins feeling stick in his stomach.

"That's a wonderful plan, but how can you be sure that Harry and my little Ronald will become best friends?" Molly questions. Harry watches as Dumbledore smiles and can't help but feel sick at the old man he once thought of as family.

"A little compulsion charm, that's for sure." Dumbledore says and it's the last thing Harry hears before he's apparating again and thank god for that. However, he suddenly lands in an all too familiar house and can't help but wonder if Dumbledore knew the trouble his aunt and uncle put him through. Unfortunately, he had a feeling this trip would answer him. Out of nowhere he could hear a baby crying. No, that wasn't exactly the right word. He could hear a baby screeching and wailing. Harry had stood there for a good fifteen minutes before he heard something else, something that made his blood run cold.

"Shut up, you mangy mongrel!" Was said next to a very loud slap that could be heard reverberating throughout the room. This had made the baby cry much louder than previously. Harry, flinching, slowly walked towards the room in which he was sure he was crying in and peeked in hesitantly. He wasn't at all surprised to see his aunt, but he was definitely surprised to see Albus Dumbledore in the room with her, his wand pointed at Harry.

"What I'm about to do Petunia cannot be repeated to anyone, do you understand?" Harry watched as Petunia nodded his head, before he was surprised by Dumbledore speaking Latin.

"Deligati puerum, et magicis . Puer, infirmus facile tractantur. Ne magna core intra puer." Harry scrunches up his face as he watches Dumbledore finish the spell, and sees a bright combination of lights fly out of his wand. There's purple, blue, red, orange. Nearly every color Harry can imagine is coming out of Dumbledore's wand and going into Harry.

"Scomparsa, what was that spell?" He asks hesitantly, not really wanting to know.

"Bound boy, bound magic. Boy, the weak, easily manipulated. Not a core within the child," Scomparsa says without any emotion in his voice. Harry's wand starts sending out black sparks as he's unable to control his anger.

"He bound my magic?"

"And much more, kid." Scomparsa mutters and Harry sees himself back in the room of white. He has to blink a few times to get his sight back but within minutes, he can see just as fine and turns towards the ghostly figure.

"What else?"

"Do you mind if I tell you everything? Even the stuff you've already seen?" Harry nods his head, needing to hear it out loud other than just seeing it.

"Okay, so Albus convinced Peter to become a spy for Voldemort, and then put the idea in Sirius' head to change secret keepers to Peter. He basically let Sirius rot in Azkaban for twelve years," Scomparsa mutters, causing Harry to clench his fists in anger.

"Then, he paid off Molly to make Ron be best friends with you, and poisoned you with Love Potions to make you fall in love with the youngest Weasley girl, despite the fact that your soulmate is Hermione. Then there's-"

"Wait, wait, woah, what?" Harry interrupts, his eyes wide as his wand nearly slips from his grasp. Scomparsa stops speaking suddenly, his eyebrows arched at the same time, extremely close to one another, before he sighs and shakes his head.

"Yeah, I s'pose you wouldn't know. Don't you remember the constant normal pull you had towards Hermione? The fact that you always enjoyed spending time with her, always wanted her safe and then, once you got older, couldn't imagine your life without her?" Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, before he nodded his head in understanding.

"Okay, but I thought those were feelings of sisterly and brotherly love?" Harry questions while Scomparsa snorts out his amusement.

"No. Because of the old coot giving you a love potion, you got the emotions you have for the two females mixed up. You felt in love with Ginny and sisterly love with Hermione, when it should've been the opposite way." Scomparsa finishes, his fist slamming down on a table that suddenly arrived and left just as fast when he was finished.

"Ok." Harry says gently, not wanting to get Scomparsa mad for some reason.

"What else has he done?" Harry finishes, watching as Scomparsa sighs and looks down at his feet.

"He's stolen money and heirlooms from your vault, not told you about your family history and the fact that you come from a noble house, blocked and bonded your core so you wouldn't be good at magic because he knew you would become extremely powerful if he didn't do so, he knew your aunt and uncle abused you and decided to leave you there, even when Mrs. Figg expressed worry about your situation. He made sure to bring the Philosopher's Stone to Hogwarts to make you face Voldemort and he himself gave Lucius Malfoy the diary of Voldemort. Then he made that precious godfather of yours nearly get kissed, despite the fact that he was on the Wizengamot and could've easily gotten a trial. But no, he made Sirius go on the run so Sirius wouldn't be able to help you out. And when Sirius did try to help you, Dumbledore charmed him to do otherwise. Sirius tried to fight it but after spending many years in Azkaban, he barely could. He suggested to do the Triwizard Tournament and suggest to bring it to Hogwarts, planning a way to make your name go into the cup anyways. Then there was fifth year. Albus knew what Dolores was doing the whole time and just didn't care. He also knew that Snape wasn't actually helping you learn occulmency. How could he, when he knew Snape was still a Death Eater? Then there was making you go through the horcrux hunt, poisoning you with a Love Potion, using compulsion on you with a spell, alongside Hermione, because boy did she fight the potion, pretending to die, telling you you were a horcrux. Hijacking your parents spot where they were supposed to meet you when you originally died, " Scomparsa all but shouts, while Harry's eyes are as wide as saucers.

"Anything else?" He whispers while he tries his hardest not to shake his head in disbelief. Everything that Scomparsa has said has slowly sunk into his brain, and he's trying so hard to absorb everything, but he finds it incredibly hard.

"I'm sure there's plenty more, Harry but right now, I honestly cannot remember." Scomparsa mutters and Harry nods his head, accepting that comment. The two of them are silent for the next fifteen minutes until Harry moves to sit down on a couch that has just arrived.

"So. What now?" He questions, playing with his hands out of nervousness, "Why did you bring me here, instead of just letting me die? What was the point of bringing me here? What is it you want me to do?" Harry rushes, nearly sounding like Hermione.

"I want to send you back in time." Scomparsa says straightforward. Harry sucks in a deep breath when he says it, and can feel his heart begin to pound in his chest.

"Don't freak out, Potter."

"How am I not supposed to freak out?" Harry grits through, trying his hardest to calm down before something happens to him or his magic.

"You listen, that's how." Scomparsa says firmly and after a few minutes, Harry nods his head, taking as many deep breaths as he can to allow himself to remain calm.

"I'm going to send you back to the week of your eleventh birthday. You can choose to go along with Hagrid or you can do what you want, when you want it. You'll remember your memories of the current life you lived, but you will be eleven again in mind, body and soul. It will be up to you on how you change things around, Potter." Scomparsa says and Harry nods, taking in a deep breath.

"I'll do it."

"Good." He says, nodding his head slightly and putting his hands in his pockets, reminding Harry of Sirius.

"Can I save people that died?" He questions suddenly, his eyes wide at the prospect. He watches as Scomparsa hints at a smile, before he shakes his head.

"If you do things right, yes, you can." He says as he turns to face Harry completely. "Will you do it?" He asks and Harry slowly nods his head, a little hesitant but wanting to be able to save so many people.

"Okay. When I'm done, there will be a blue and red light that surrounds you. Don't be afraid of it. Let it pull you away, okay?" Scomparsa says and Harry nods. Before he can finish the charm though, Harry speaks quickly.

"What do I do about Dumbledore? And Molly?"

"Try to evade them. Don't let them know that you know what they've done. And whatever happens Potter, make sure you can trust the right people. Only a certain amount of people can know the truth, so be careful of whom you tell." Scomparsa says and Harry nods his head before he sees the blue and red light that Scomparsa talked about form a circle and surround him. Harry can feel himself slightly panic before he forces himself to calm down and make things easier for the process.

As the light encircles Harry, he can feel certain warmth spread through his body, blood and if he focuses hard enough, his veins. He looks around, but all he can see his blue and red light with no gaps in between. As the minutes go by, the lights get brighter and brighter and Harry nearly shields his eyes from the light. They remind him of flames that lick your skin in a sick and twisted embrace, but these have no heat or coldness to them, and they don't flicker, but remain steady throughout the whole time.

Within minutes, the lights are finally gone and Harry finds himself slowly opening his eyes. It takes him a couple of minutes, but he finally recognizes that he is back in the cupboard, and he lets out a slow sigh. He moves his hands in search of his glasses and after a couple of minutes, finally finds them and puts them on his face.

The cupboard looks the same, with the same spider web up in the corner, the coinciding spider on his sock just chilling and the green toy soldiers on the ledge. Harry sighs once more and briefly closes his eyes. He knows he needs a plan. He needs to figure out if he's going to go with Hagrid, or do things his own way. Hell, maybe he'll do both. Either way, he needs a plan, and he needs one soon.

He gets up slowly and while it takes him a much longer time than he would've liked, he finally finds some paper and something to write with. He thinks awhile before he starts his first list.

_People to Save_, he thinks, chewing on his lower lip, his eyes wide.

_Cedric, can't there be._

_Sirius, won't let him go. _

_Albus? Does he even deserve to live after everything he's put me through?_

_Hedwig. Moody. Remus and Tonks. Fred._

Harry looked over his list, and while he knew there were many others he could save, it would all come down to whether or not the war went the same way as before. He puts his list away before taking out another piece of paper and starting that list.

_Things to Do: _He has to go to Gringotts, that's for sure. If Dumbledore is stealing from him, he wants to know just how much has been stolen, and just what else has been stolen other than the cloak and the map. While he's at Gringotts, he'll probably check to see if his magical core is indeed blocked and while he doesn't want to think about it, he'll need to know for sure, and he's pretty sure goblins can check stuff like that.

He'll also have to find a way to see how badly Hermione is affected without causing her to be suspicious. Which would bring telling her the truth. He knows he could trust Hermione – he's always trusted her, no matter what the reason was. But would she be able to trust him and what he says? That was the question that really got to him.

Then there was finding a way to free his godfather because there was no way he was going to let his godfather rot in Azkaban.

Yes, Harry Potter had a small plan. Now, to put it in action.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Here it is, chapter two of going back! It's short, only 2000 words. However, there's some more plot thrown in throughout and a surprise thrown in at the end with foreshadowing of who it is throughout the chapter. I hope y'all enjoy it. The meat of the story will begin with the next update, which will probably be a while.

* * *

Harry sat within the cupboard for the next two hours, knowing he still had bounds of time before his aunt decided to come wake him up. His plans were a little more fleshed out than before and he was rather proud of them. He now knew that he wasn't going to go with Hagrid. He was sure he could trust the older giant, but he couldn't trust the fact that word would get around to Dumbledore because of Hagrid. Not only that, but Harry wasn't going to be staying at the Dursley's for much longer, either. He knew that his aunt and uncle's house was one of complete disrespect and abuse towards him, and he also knew that he wouldn't be able to take it this time around. So no, Harry Potter would be doing things completely different this time around.

He knew that when he ran away from Privet Drive, all hell would break loose. He was ready for that. He had decided after leaving the Dursley's he would find some way to get Sirius out of Azkaban. He definitely believed that Sirius should not have suffered as long as he did, and Harry was glad to be doing something. Of course, he had no idea how he was going to get Sirius out. He just knew he had to. He had been fighting with himself for most of the two hours debating on how Sirius would be let out. He didn't have any hard evidence. He didn't know where the hell Azkaban even was and most importantly, he knew that no one would believe an eleven year old, even if they did think of said eleven year old as "The Boy Who Lived". So yes, somehow, he'd get Sirius out.

After that, he planned to go to Gringotts after transforming himself and Sirius. He didn't mind being on the run – not at all. What he minded was that he didn't have a lot of time to get this stuff done. He figured he would go to the wizarding bank (why there was only one bank for wizards, he never knew nor understood) and find out just what Dumbledore had been stealing from him and how his magic had been blocked. He had a feeling he would be very surprised when he learned what was blocked from him – and very angry, too.

Harry shook his head quickly, getting out of his traitorous thoughts before thinking about what else he was going to do. He had definitely decided to tell Sirius and Hermione the truth about him and his future – he knew he could trust them with his life, so he could definitely trust him with something like this. From what Scomparsa said, he could also trust the Weasley twins, but he hadn't yet decided when to tell those two about the truth.

Harry was jolted out of his thoughts when he heard his Aunt telling him to get up. He hadn't realized it had been three hours since he had begun thinking about stuff. He realized now that he could smell whatever was cooking for breakfast when his stomach rumbled. He couldn't remember the last time he ate – knowing it was well worth a long time ago. However, he knew that he wouldn't be eating much now anyways. So, with a steel of his stomach, he left his cupboard and let the day begin, knowing that soon, his new life would begin too.

The week had gone by slow for Harry, too slow. Each day had passed in long hours of grueling work, sweat dripping down his forehead and his muscles aching from his chores. He had thought working outside wasn't that bad when he was younger – or well, older, technically – but this past week had been the worst for him. It seemed like his aunt and uncle were working him harder, knowing what would be coming soon and not letting him rest for one moment. He took everything in stride though, knowing that the more he was left alone, the more he could think about his plans.

He had decided that he was going to leave two days before his birthday. Which was tomorrow, according to the calendar he had spotted briefly in his aunt's kitchen. As for the current day, he had a brief reprieve, like he did every Wednesday. He was eating a slice of bread at the table, enjoying it for once as he was able to eat it slowly, when he briefly heard the news on the television.

"This man is armed and dangerous. If you spot him immediately, please call the number of the hotline provided below. Do not attempt to take this man down. This man is armed and dangerous."

Harry frowned slightly, not remembering any prisoner from either world escaping around this time. He shrugs, before finishing his slice of bread and making his way back to his cupboard. He packed what small amount of items he had in a bag he had found before sitting on the makeshift bed he had. There were twelve hours left in the day. Twelve hours and he couldn't wait to get out of the hell he was in and break free and create his new world.

Within the first hour of sitting on his bed, he had doubted his plan immensely. How was he going to get Sirius out of Azkaban without being affected? Would Sirius ever believe him if he did get him out? He couldn't possibly know but the mere idea of something not working out for him scared him immensely.

Within the second hour, Harry was beginning to get restless. He didn't know how he was going to be able to handle ten hours of more waiting, but he knew he would have to tough it out. His body might be eleven years old, but his mind was much older. And it was just mind over matter, he knew that. His heart felt like it was hurting, which wasn't really possible but Harry tried pushing it aside.

The third hour made things change slightly. Harry was beginning to get tired but with his nerves over the upcoming plan, his thoughts had gone into overdrive. His forehead had begun to sweat through his nerves and his hands were beginning to slip whenever he grasped something. His eyes were wide – it was almost like he was having a panic attack, one he hadn't had in so many years. He didn't like the idea, didn't like the thought of having attacks again. His heart beat would begin to rise and there seemed to be something stuck in his throat. He thought that maybe he could hear something whispering in his ear and he shook his head, trying to clear his mind.

With that came the fourth hour. By now, it was incredibly late, Harry was incredibly tired and everyone else was completely asleep. He was bored, his sweat had turned into body heat and his plans had continued to irk him. He felt that there was something missing – he just didn't know what. He had gone over the plan in his head and couldn't find anything faulty but it was still confusing the young kid.

The fifth hour had gone by tortuously slow for Harry – maybe because it was the hour before the halfway point, maybe it was because Harry didn't know what to think of anymore. Either way, Harry was completely bored now. He was lying on his back by this time, his legs crossed at his ankles. He was no longer hot, but neither was he cold. He was simply staring into space, wondering how his life will turn out because of his plan.

Halfway now. The sixth hour. Harry got up out of his bed and unpacked his bag.

He put everything he had in front of him.

It wasn't much – a water bottle, some clothing, his ideas list, his plan, and some money he had been stealing.

The sixth hour passed and the seventh hour came upon him, and he sighed.

It was then that he heard it. His uncle getting up, climbing down the stairs. He remained silent, still, wondering if maybe he had woken up his uncle. He remembered his uncle's beatings well – they lasted until his fifteenth birthday, so how couldn't he? He remained still some more, even after his uncle passed his cupboard and headed straight to the kitchen. Harry quietly snorted at that, not surprised at all before he moved his items slowly.

Just because his uncle wasn't angry at him yet didn't mean he couldn't become angry at him later. He waited until his uncle had gone back upstairs and then let out a sigh of relief.

Hour eight came by fast and hard, jolting Harry awake out of whatever stupor he'd fallen asleep into. His eyes were wide and his pulse fast. A nightmare. He forgot about those pesky things, and sighed annoyingly. He ran his fingers through his hair, noticing how wet his hair was from the sweat. He blinked his eyes open and rid himself of sleep.

He had four hours left.

He could do this.

He needed to do this.

Hour nine and the sky was nonexistent for Harry. He hated his cupboard, always had. He wondered what the sky looked like currently, and shook his head.

He wanted hour ten to come already. However, it didn't come until what felt like an eternity later.

Hour ten came silently. Harry tried his hardest not to fall asleep, not to let his eyes close even a little bit.

By the time hour eleven came, Harry slowly got up from his bed. He had one hour to re-pack, and quietly sneak out of his house so he was gone by hour twelve. His leg was shaking in anticipation, his hand slapping his thigh with excitement.

Forty minutes before he could get the hell out of this hole and go find his godfather.

Thirty minutes before he could put his plan into action.

Twenty minutes, he stood up and stretched, a grin on his face.

Ten minutes, and he was slowly making his way out of his cupboard. He opened it slowly, making sure he didn't let it squeak. When he opened it fully without a single noise, he let out another relieved breath and tip-toed to the kitchen. When he saw that it was empty, he quickly took whatever food supplies he figured he could eat and then made his way back towards the front door.

Just as he was about to put his hand on the knob, he saw the door jiggle, and took a step back in surprise, his eyes wide.

He had no idea what could be out there, and he had no means of actually fighting off anyone that came through that door – especially his uncle.

His eyes were still wide when the knob jiggled once more, making even more noise than before. He heard his uncle grunt and his aunt move around and grimaced, closing his hand around the knob to stop it from moving any more. He let out a breath when the knob stopped moving before jumping when it started jiggling again.

He clenched his fist and grinded his teeth, anger coursing through his young self. He did not wait twelve hours just for his plan to go extremely awry right at the fucking door. Stealing a quick breath, he straightened up his body.

He was prepared for whatever was beyond the front door, whether it be his uncle, a burglar or even a stray death eater that somehow managed to find out he'd been sent back.

Letting out a breath, closing his eyes and briefly clenching the doorknob, Harry turned it slowly, making sure to seem like he had a very arrogant air around him.

However, when he opened the door completely, he felt the air in his lungs whoosh out of him and his eyes go wide with surprise.

"No bloody way."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: So, I never planned for the updates in this story to take as long as they did - but I don't have a major plan for it, just an outline, and it makes things harder. While I'm not happy with the first half, the last half kind of makes up for it, and I hope you enjoy. I'm going to try and have more regular updates for all my fanfictions, but I'm not going to make any promises just yet! Enjoy guys!

* * *

The past month had been pivotal for one Albus Dumbledore. His plans had been twelve years in the making and for the first time in those twelve years, every single one of his plans would be coming to a head. It had taken so much patience – patience that Albus wasn't sure he had, and it had all started with that damn prophecy. However, he pulled everything off; and pretty soon, Hagrid would be going to collect the young Potter. That was the first step in how his grand plan would be coming to a head since the deaths of James and Lily Potter. Normally, any wizard or witch coming in from the muggle world would have Minerva McGonagall knocking on their door in order to introduce them to the wizarding world. However, with much persuasion, and a couple of compulsion spells towards his faithful Deputy Headmistress, Minerva accepted the fact that Dumbledore would go to Harry's home himself. Well, that's what she thought, at least. In reality, Albus had made it so that Hagrid would go and deliver young Harry's letter, already knowing that yes, the young boy lived in a cupboard (he did check the envelopes before they went off, you know) and that the Dursley's wouldn't be giving Harry any of his letters until pushed to the extreme. It fits perfectly well into his plan, and Albus can't help but smile at how it's all coming together. And with Harry being introduced to the Wizarding world through Hagrid, Albus could make sure that Hagrid would miss out on mentioning some very important things – mainly, things about Harry himself, and the customs of the wizarding world.

The most important thing though, the most important thing is the reason why he's currently sitting in Molly Weasley's kitchen, watching her two youngest children shovel food into their mouths for their breakfast. He grimaces lightly, feeling safe to do so with Molly's back turned from him before he clears his throat and stands straighter.

"Molly, do you remember what we last talked about?" Albus questions while folding his hands together. He doesn't want to admit this – wouldn't dare admit this to anyone but his own mind, but he's worried. Molly not only remembering, but agreeing, to what they talked about would lead Albus' plans straight into near finish territory. Of course, he has no doubts that she would agree to his idea. He can tell, just by looking at the dilapidated home that she became in too far with having child after child. When he first entered her home, the fact was confirmed just by looking at his surroundings. Things were old, ratty, passed on. A lot of the clothing he could see hanging up to dry were frayed, and things seemed to be tightly packed and cluttered. The Weasley house seemed to be always moving, never-ending, hustle and bustle, get things done type of house.

And it was perfect for what Albus wanted from Molly.

"Of course I remember what we last talked about, Albus," Molly says, stopping herself from doing something completely, her attention fully on Albus by now. Inwardly, Albus grinned. He had no doubts that Molly would remember – the mention of money and fame was something she just couldn't resist.

"And what are your thoughts on our last discussion, now that it's been many years?" Albus continues, the twinkle in his eyes appearing so he seems more grandfatherly. It's one of his greatest powers, something he knows makes his students feel more at ease. It's something he plans on using on Harry, from the moment they meet.

He watches as Molly takes in a deep breath, fiddles with her hands slightly, obviously anxious, and it's then that he knows what her answer is going to be. He smiles, pats her hand imploringly.

"Do sit down, Molly. You look like you could do with some relaxation," He says instead, knowing it's going to be the one thing to calm the woman down. He gives her credit though. Seven kids, all but one of them boys, two gone off into the world, one thinking highly of himself, two being havoc causing and bad for Albus' overall health, and one that's a loner. It's not easy, and if anything, Albus knows where to give credit where credit is due.

"You know, I think I will. Thank you so much, Albus," Molly replies with a sigh, her hair blowing upwards from the wind of it.

"Kids, why don't you go somewhere else for a little while? Your future headmaster and I have a few things to discuss," Molly says to her two youngest, smiling. It turns into a glare though when she sees the two of them about to complain.

"Kids, now! This isn't any of your business." She says, nodding her head as the children walk out of the room, their body language showing just how upset they are, "Not yet, at least." She whispers to herself, once they leave. Albus watches the aging mother curiously, wondering if she's going to go into this with complete trust, making things all the more easier for him, or question his motives.

"I thought long and hard about what you were offering, Albus. I was going to use some excuse about how, if it wasn't for the future of my youngest two children, I would turn you down so fast, but I can't lie to myself. I would say yes anyways." Molly begins with a tremble as Albus inwardly grins.

"So yes, I will accept your offer. What is I will have to do?" She questions, and Albus lets out a smile, fully aware and pleased of how well his plan is going.

"On the day of September 1st, you must act like you have forgotten the name of the platform to go to in order to board the Hogwarts Express. I know it might seem silly – you have done it four different times, and this time will be your fifth. However, it is _imperative_ that you mention the platform number. Do you understand?" Albus questions while waiting for Molly to nod before he continues.

"By mentioning the platform number, I am hopeful and quite positive that you will attract the attention of one eleven year old Harry Potter. I trust in telling this to you, but I have specifically sent Hagrid to tell Harry about our world – which means not much, including how to get to the platform. Because of this, young Harry will be confused and by mentioning the platform name loud enough for him to hear—"

"He'll ask me what to do," Molly says with an enlightened grin with Albus nodding along.

"Precisely."

"And what about Ronald and Ginevra?" Molly questions, inching forward, unaware of said children also doing so in their hiding spot.

"All Ron has to do is go find Harry on the train and befriend him. I have taken care of the rest on Harry's side of things," Albus replies smiling.

"And Ginevra?"

"Ginevra will take some work," Albus begins, "If all goes according to plan, which it should be, Harry will end up staying with your family throughout the summer. When you feed him, give him small doses of a love potion for Ginny. Don't go up on the doses until much later, say about, his sixth year." Albus says before shifting ever so slightly.

"By the middle of his sixth year, providing you've done everything correctly, Ginny will begin dating Harry." Albus finishes with a grin as Molly nods her head hesitantly.

"And the money? You mentioned money." She questions, knowing it makes her seem horrible. But, after all, she does have her children to think about.

"Each year you do this, I will be compensating you with money from Harry's own vault – think of it as an insurance policy so you know I won't go back on my word. However, Molly Weasley – this must remain between the two of us. If you tell anyone, even hint at it, the deal will be over. Do you understand?" Albus finishes, his twinkle gone. He knows Molly will agree as there's too much risk involved, but he has to make sure, has to know.

"Of course, Albus," She answers after a few minutes, letting out a small smile. With his plan very well on its way to success, Albus grins before standing up.

"Well, that will be all for me," He says, patting his cloak down. He recognizes Molly quick nod and sets his way to the Weasley fireplace.

"And Molly, you won't regret this." Albus says before grabbing a handful of floo powder and stepping into the fire with a yell of ,"Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office."

* * *

People who have met Scomparsa have called him an aloof being. Or, depending on their views, an aloof creature, myth, religion. It all depended on the person, if Scomparsa was honest, and Scomparsa was everything, including honest. They called him cold, calculating, scary. And Scomparsa, being the honest being he was, couldn't help but agree with them.

But like any other being, Scomparsa had layers to himself. Like that green guy from that muggle children's movie, he was like an onion. And if you peeled the onion, you found out about more layers. His first layer, his outer layer, was a rather simple, black robe. Yes, that's it, a black robe, with a hood.

And no, he didn't carry a scathe, thank you very much. He did carry a wand though, just in case of emergencies, but he never really needed to use it, as most people went with him willingly. The robe was pure black, never graying, despite its age. If you looked closely though, there were some areas that were even darker than the purest of black, where most people would hypothesize a stain of some sort had been (they'd be right). Underneath the cloak though, well, there was his body, but since his own death, he didn't really have a physical body any longer.

But the next layer – the next layer was the most important. You see, the next layer was the layer that held Scomparsa's soul. Yes, you heard that correctly – Scomparsa did have a soul. He was human once, you know. All of the Scomparsa's of the world were human once. They had to have been, in order to die and take the place of the previous one. It was how things worked in the general order of things.

A new Scomparsa would come, and the old one would become it's boss – which is hilarious. Scomparsa becoming a – He couldn't go there, though.

Instead, Scomparsa had only one place _to _go. And that was down.

Scomparsa was worrying the carpet in his office down quite well with the amount of pacing he had done since returning Potter to the land of the living. It was something he didn't regret – how could he, since his boss had been on his ass about it since the first time – but it was definitely something he was watching closely. He had no doubt about Potter succeeding in this time around – what he had doubt about was that crack-pot old fool, Dumbledore.

Even now, without watching, he knew that Dumbledore was doing what he could to try and manipulate young Potter. The fool had already gotten Molly Weasley into his crutches – which would never end up well, as she had been the one administrating those damn potions.

So yes, Scomparsa was definitely pacing a hole into his office carpet. But could you blame him? He had returned a kid to the past to change the future, which was something that was unheard of! He had a lot to worry about, after all. If anything, and he does mean anything, happened to the kid that caused him to be sent back to Scomparsa, everything would be over and the future change would be completely moot.

But he had faith. He needed to have faith, despite how oxymoronic it seemed. Without the faith that Potter would succeed, he would be nowhere and everything would be very screwed up. Which is why he had faith.

But enough about this fate bullshit.

Scomparsa needed to get things moving along. And while he knew he couldn't go down and manifest again in front of Potter, he did know that he could help the kid. And he knew how to help him, too.

It was rather simple, once he thought about. Potter's plan had been brilliant, but Scomparsa knew Potter couldn't do the one thing he wanted to do the most, so why not send a little bit of help for the kid. It had taken him days to figure it out, of course.

He might be Scomparsa, but he wasn't exactly a genius when he was alive, if you got his drift. So no, it had taken him days to figure it out, and when he finally did figure it out, he didn't have many days left to work with, as he knew Potter was going to be leaving soon.

But a simple push was all that was needed.

Well no, that was a bold-faced lie. He also needed many dreams, the trust of a man who'd been in jail for far too long and the hope that what he was saying would be very believable to said man. Luckily enough, he had received all three by the time he made the last dream appear.

Which was a good thing, because he really was running out of time.

So, back to the pacing, despite his rambling.

Why was Scomparsa pacing, you ask? Because he wanted to make sure the man got to his destination, and that he arrived there on time, in one piece, and for fuck's sake, soon, man, soon!

Yes, that's why Scomparsa was pacing like a complete idiot. He sighs, and with a shake of his head, sits down in his office chair, shaking his leg in agitation.

Things had to get better.

And they did. Eventually. What felt like hours later. And was.

He had just been starting to dose off in his chair. His eyes were closed, his breathing – mock breathing, mind you – had slowed down considerably, and he felt relaxed for the first time in days. Months, even. Though the month part, he knew was not plausible. Years, perhaps, but not months. His eyesight had been going pink, and he had begun to hear the sweet melodic sounds of some sort of music in his ears.

He was going to his own dreamland when it happened. He could hear a doorknob rattling, could hear it like it was his own doorknob rattling, despite knowing how impossible it was, as he didn't have a door in his office.

He opened his eyes, slowly, missing the feeling of bright and loud sunlight killing his immediately upon opening them. But he shakes the feeling off, and looks at his orb of the current planet and smiles.

Because the door is rattling, and Harry bloody Potter is standing in front of it, opening it.

"No bloody way," He murmurs with a triumphant grin on his face.

* * *

He scoffs, shaking his head with a grin. He feels like he should be staring at Harry reverently, taking in every aspect of Harry that he hasn't seen before.

Except, he has seen Harry before, but from another time. And it confuses him, how he knows all of this, but he knows it.

He's been given a second chance, possibly even a third, and he's going to take it.

"You look good, kiddo," He says, smiling. He notices Harry wearing jeans that are once again, too large on him, but not because they're Dudley's. It seems they're the jeans he was wearing during the war, but with the blood stains and rips in them faded and cleared, so it's not obvious that he comes from a different time if someone were to look too closely. His sneakers were worn, but red and black and clearly, Harry's favorite pair.

His top was also black, but it had red splattered onto Harry's chest, and probably back. It was one of the things Harry was wearing that seemed to be the perfect fit, which made him smile with happiness. Not only that, but it appeared Harry was also wearing a leather jacket, which confused him, as he knows the Dursley's would have never even thought about giving Harry a jacket of any type of leather – real or fake.

"Where'd you get the leather jacket?" He chuckles, cracking his knuckles and shifting, unsure how to proceed, with the memories still flying through his brain like very vivid dreams.

He watches as Harry grins and shakes his head, looking down, "I stole it from Dudley. It was too small on him when they bought it for him, so I stole it recently, as it seems like the perfect fit for me," Harry replies with a shrug.

"We have a lot to talk about, Harry," He says, suddenly serious, and Harry can only nod, knowing how much he's going to have to explain.

* * *

"No bloody way," Harry mutters, eyes opening in shock. He can feel his heart begin to beat faster than previously, and his own hand begins to shake in surprise. He had never expected this, but somehow, he feels like he should have known that something like this was going to happen. Never in a million years did he expect something like this to happen, but once again, he never expected to be transported back into time either.

He can feel the opposite man's eyes on him, and after a couple of minutes of feeling uncomfortable, he lets out a really small smile, knowing immediately that the other man doesn't notice, and waits for him to speak, shifting again.

"Where'd you get the leather jacket?" The man chuckles, while cracking his knuckles and shifting his body, clearly uncomfortable with the question, though Harry has no idea why.

"I stole it from Dudley. It was too small on him when they bought it for him, so I stole it recently, as it seems like the perfect fit for me," Harry replies with a shrug, no longer looking down. He watches as the man shifts slightly, and he smiles, still unbelieving about what's right in front of him.

"We have a lot to talk about, Harry," He says, suddenly seriously, and Harry nods, before letting out a full burst of laughter. He opens the door, pushes the man opposite of him out and closes it quietly, before walking away.

The two of them walk for hours without speaking, just willing enough to spend time with one another. It isn't until Harry stops and looks to his side with his head tilted that he finally lets out a noise.

"Why are we walking? Couldn't you just apparated us out of here?"

"Possibly, but I don't want to risk it. It's been a long time since I've done any magic, kiddo. Not nearly as long as the previous time – which we still have to talk about, by the way, but still long enough," He replies with a shrug as Harry thinks it through.

The man opposite him, surprisingly enough, is wearing muggle clothes himself. He had obviously changed before he arrived at Harry's doorstep, but he had been wearing black jeans, with his own version of a leather jacket, and a long-sleeved shirt underneath that. Harry believed him to be crazy, because who would wear those two things together in weather like this?

But then again, Harry was dressed pretty similarly, which was another odd thing.

"How did you –" Harry begins, only to stop and bite his lip.

"Harry, do you want to know what the last thing I remembered was?" Harry nods, hoping that maybe this will answer some questions.

"The last thing I remember was sitting down on a couch next to your father, waiting for when you would arrive from your battle with Voldemort. Remus was sitting across from me, holding on to Tonks – or well, Lupin, I should say – and your mother was pacing in the kitchen, hands fretting everywhere. I remember thinking that any minute, you'd walk through those doors sad, but happy, because you'd be with your family again,"

"But?" Harry says, knowing it's coming and ready for it.

"But then the next thing I know, I'm back in my cell, staring at the wall of marks I've made that tells me it's the year you're turning eleven." He says with an arched eyebrow as Harry looks down and blushes lightly before going in for a hug.

"I still missed you, Sirius," He mutters, feeling calm when Sirius returns the hug. Harry smiles lightly before pulling away a few minutes later with a slight blush still.

"Well, what's going on, Harry?" Sirius questions, pulling away himself before conjuring a couple of chairs for the two of them to sit on, being in an empty field.

"I died," Harry begins,

"Clearly," Sirius interrupts with a grin

"Ha ha! Anyways, I died, and I thought I'd be going to you guys, but instead this guy called Scomparsa—"

"Death, Harry."

"Huh?"

"Scomparsa is the Italian word for Death," Sirius replies with a grin as Harry shrugs.

"Well, he comes to me and he tells me that he wants to put me back in time, during my eleventh birthday, because apparently, Dumbledore was a manipulative Headmaster and purposely made it so I'd die. He went on to explain all of these things—" Harry begins, as Sirius slowly fades out, realizing that what Harry is saying was what he was dreaming during the past week.

Eventually, when Harry finishes, especially after mentioning his plan of things to do, Sirius turns to Harry with a small smile.

"Looks like we've got to go through with your plan on go to Gringotts, pup. But first, to a place where we can be safe." Harry nods, in complete agreement as he grabs Sirius' arm and they apparated to Grimmauld Place.


End file.
